Love
As a snake, coiling up in a knot,
At the very heart she's conjuring.
Or the whole day she's like tiny dove
On the window white tender cooing.
Or she sparkles in hoar-frost bright,
And in dozing - like a gillyflower...
But she surely, secretly guides
You from a pleasure and from a quiet.
She can sweetly and plaintively cry
In a prayer of boring violin,
And is awe now to guess her in smile,
Yet unknown, though such greeting.
poem by Anna Akhmatova (24 November 1911), translated by Lyudmila Purgina
Added by Poetry Lover
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